1. La Rovina
He makes love every single time he lays his wife down. In Italy they take their time and it's so slow and sweet with the fresh sea air blowing in the apartment. They sleep with the windows open but he still locks the doors, it takes months to rid himself from his routines, maybe even longer. He is filled with the memories of tender embraces and warm caresses with the moonlight peering in over the streets of Rome. They get to be brand new in this space.
His wife never looked more beautiful. She was tanned and healthy and his. No more distractions, no more danger and no more Olivia. This was his wife's only wish. She never demanded he quit or leave but when it was time for him to make a decision it was her that pushed him into another continent. Oceans away from Olivia however far he was out of sight, she was never ever out of mind.
But when he's having a beer long after he's came and his wife's been long asleep topless, laying in bed he thinks about Olivia in those dark thoughts. It's in the moments after when he's sitting on the balcony nursing a glass of wine that has him dreaming of her warmth. He realizes he's drank nearly half a bottle when his mind starts slipping. With his vision blurry and smooth he closes his lids to imagine other things. Things that have no place being in his head to begin with.
He lets himself imagine what it would be like to make love to her but it reminds him of his wife and he doesn't see any similarities whatsoever. Kathy needs the physical manifestation of the all they are through making love gently and softly. The kisses and hugging and embracing in the moments after mean something to her. It's always been this way and it's all he's ever known.
Olivia would need the proof and gratification of his hand marks on her thighs, sucking marks that leave bruises all over her chest. He isn't sure how far off with his fantasies that he is with the reality but that's all gone now. The possibility at them ever exploring more, at him even being able to see what was there and that's okay with him now and he prays it is for her now.
But Olivia would have been different, he just knows it. While his experience with women is limited his ability to have known another human soul inside and out was not at all limited in the way he was with Olivia. He tries to think of her screaming on all fours but it doesn't work as well the image of him being gentle and slow with her. He's half hard just thinking about her like this, the what if's and lost touches and fantasies that never came to fruition. He tries to imagine something sharp even to give him a thrill across his bones, to snap him out of this but it's his face taking turns with his dick and stops to close his eyes trying to imagine the taste. He hides the empty bottle of wine before going to bed and plays dumb the next morning.
Its not til the cold winter breeze settles in and they have to start closing the windows at night that he lets himself look at her Facebook profile after going through Fin's list in those first six months. He wasn't able to shake her as cold turkey as everyone had thought.
He freezes when he sees one of two pictures her privacy setting allows. The first is of flower, a generic photo he can't tell if she took, was a random stock imagine but his heart stops at the second.
One she is wearing a white blouse and tight light blue jeans in. Her hair is curly now and her body is totally different. He can't shake how different she looks than what he remembered. Her happy smile. Her tan skin and thick golden looking hair.
He finds himself wanting to reach out and touch the glowing screen but closes it when he hears his wife get up to use the restroom. He opens it back up the next night after he tries his best but can't shake the quick memory burnt into his mind. He studies the picture and as a result of that it makes him stiff as his eyes take in her long hair and bronzed skin and the new body on her.
Thinking of those thighs squeezed around his face he keeps squeezing and rubbing above the shorts until he's close. He feels so fucking guilty but first it feels so good so he finishes no time into a Kleenex quickly.
They've been there for nearly a year now. He stopped looking at the photos of her on Facebook after Kathy keeps asking him if they talk, if there's a reason why they don't and why is Facebook the most visited site on the computer when he hasn't opened it for work in months . Or so she thought.
It isn't until he has to go through old storage bins to find paperwork one of his kids need faxed that he comes across a bin of sweaters. His hands still on a soft grey fabric that he clenches onto so, so tightly, knuckles white and hands shaking, he pulls it out of the box. The apartment is empty and silent. But he closes the door to the walk in closet before closing his eyes and lifting it to his nose.
He can't help but inhale so deeply to get as much of her smell into his lungs as possible. It smells so strongly of her, something he could never forget no matter how hard he had to consistently try at maintaining the distance between them all these years. The guilt slips away when he finds a spot near the inside along the zipper where her chest would be. That's the spot filled with her scent the most. He wonders if he could bringing this to a department store and get someone to match the smell. It's sick and twisted but he needs this.
He closes his eyes and smells the sweater so deeply and has to swallow his sigh. He thinks of her in it on the nights when Rome gets chilly in the fall wearing it on a jog around the colosseum late when all the tourists have gone back to their hotels and cruise ships. She's jogging in it with rose colored cheeks and headphones in and she's smiling at him as he catches up to her on the path leading to the road. He thinks of taking her home and seeing her strip off the hoodie to reveal nothing but a sports bra underneath and leggings. He hates that he's hard but he is. So he takes the sweater under his arm after closing the bin and tucking it back in the closet and heads to the bathroom.
He locks the door and holds the sweater to his nose again and leans his back against the door. He can't help himself. He inhales her so deeply he can't breathe. He won't let himself exhale.
He runs his hand down rigged length protruding from within his track pants and the other fists the fabric in his hand and holds to his face. She's all around him now. Finally.